


Hold Me Still, Bury My Heart Next To Yours

by itcanprobablysmellfear



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, I'm really sorry, IT'S ME, Post Season 5, Season 5 AU, Tears, but definitely violence, i'm bitch, it'll be okay, like so many tears, no blood mentioned, sometimes a bitch likes angst, stay safe my friends, very mild sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itcanprobablysmellfear/pseuds/itcanprobablysmellfear
Summary: What if Adora couldn't summon She-Ra at the critical moment? What if, when it was all over, there was nothing Catra could do but cradle the body of her love and whisper things that she never had the courage to say when she was alive?
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 137





	Hold Me Still, Bury My Heart Next To Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Long time listener, first time caller! Hi AO3! So...this is my first fanfic that I've done in...over 8 years? Please have mercy on me. This was all inspired by the incredible artwork of bibinella. I hope I've done justice to their gorgeous creation.  
> https://bibinella.tumblr.com/post/618412787651231744  
> Title is from “Ghosts That We Knew” by Mumford and Sons

“It’s too late…I’ve failed.”

~***~

To Catra, it felt like hours had passed before the Heart’s beating began to slow, the eerie pulsating lights dimming slowly with each diminishing rhythmic throb. Hours, too, before Adora’s body stopped its thrashing, the final vestiges of the Failsafe fully exorcised from her frame, so small and weak now to Catra’s eyes without her warrior alter-ego. Horde Prime’s virus had locked away the mighty She-Ra, and so, alone but for Catra’s hand held tightly in her own, Adora offered up her body as sacrifice. In exchange for such bravery, such selflessness, the Failsafe had violently torn itself from her, relentless and agonizing as it purged the wild magic from the chamber where Catra now cradled the fallen hero. “No! Adora!” Catra had screamed, grappling with the blonde as if by sheer will alone she could calm the spasms and rescue her found-again friend. Adora had blinked once, smiled up at Catra, and with a soft whisper that Catra failed to catch, had breathed her last. 

In throes of her thrashing, Adora’s hair had loosened itself from its binding and lay, looking like molten gold, gently cascading over Catra’s arm. That wouldn’t do, Catra thought. She brushed a few stray pieces away from the woman’s face. Catra always hated that stupid ponytail and the even stupider poof Adora militantly insisted on wearing every damn day. Catra hesitantly ran her fingers through the delicate strands, thinking how much more beautiful Adora was with her hair free. Catra never told her –and with a strangled sob, realized she never would- her favorite sight, what got her through the worst of days in the Horde, was the sight of Adora, sleeping, her hair sprayed out upon her pillow like the rays of a sun hardly visible in the Fright Zone. Catra couldn’t count the number of times, in the quiet of night while the other cadets slumbered around them, when she’d lean down and reach out, terrified but with a longing oh so achingly sweet, to touch the silken strands…only to snatch her hand back, unwilling to cross that invisible line between what she and Adora had now, and what hid whispering within the forbidden urge. 

But now…where was the fear? What did Catra have to be frightened of now? The worst possible thing imaginable had already occurred. The emotion held sway over her no longer, and so with steady hands she fully indulged, sinking her fingers through the golden locks. Gods, it was even softer then she imagined. Nothing like what her own untamable mane had been. She gave a watery chuckle, more tears brimming over. “Geez Adora, you really ARE a princess. No one else would have hair thi-this st-st-stupid!” She choked. Catra paused, half expecting some kind of reaction. It certainly would have earned her a smack to the arm or a punch to the shoulder, accompanied by a crinkly-eyed smile that would bloom sweetly across the face of the woman she was holding. But…no, no that wouldn’t happen again, Catra thought, fresh sobs escaping her trembling lips. She bent down to press her forehead to Adora’s.

“Adora,” Catra whispered. “Adora, w-wake up. Please!” More tears. “…you promised. You promised…everything…would be ok! You…you said n-nothing really bad can, can happen. As long…a-as long as we’re…” but she couldn’t finish. The anguish in her chest demanded voice to lament, commanding her body to surrender to its sorrowful will. She pressed Adora closer to her as her own body was wracked with sobs, oceans cascading from her split eyes and onto the unflinching face of her love. With that, Catra fully gave way to her grief, laying down any semblance of restraint and control at the feet of her fallen warrior, as reverently as an offering to a merciless god. She clutched the back of Adora’s head, never ceasing her ministrations to the golden hair. The other hand grasped at her waist, fingers fisted in the ever-present red jacket. 

Time ceased to exist as Catra rocked back and forth with Adora’s body, her cries punctuating a staccato beat against the lull of the ever-diminishing Heart. She imagined that it too lamented the fall of the warrior She-Ra, that despite its demise coming from the hands of the might princess, without her it ceased to have meaning or purpose, and so mourned the finality. As their combined keening coursed through Catra, she silently prayed, begged, that the pain they shared was strong enough to bring the fortress down around them, turning the castle into a casket. Do it! Catra screamed in her head as the walls remained steadfast. You demanded Mara, you stole Adora! What’s more blood? What’s my blood?! It’s not so important as theirs, but you cannot be so full as to refuse me! My life is so small! It is nothing to your appetite! 

But it seemed the more tears she shed, the more the Crystal Castle refused her. The multifaceted walls twinkled around them, and it appeared to Catra that the building itself was laughing at her. Every way she turned, she saw her own distorted image reflected, warped and discolored, fingers too long here, eyes too large there, her suffering magnified in a mocking, twisted impression. So she continued. Who would miss her if she chose to stay in this hell? There was no one left in the whole universe to care for her now. Even if the castle refused to bury them, here she would remain, her skeleton entwined with Adora’s, an everlasting testament to the cruelty of the First Ones.

Minutes…hours…days could have passed, for all Catra was aware. All of existence had coalesced and distilled into a single point, creating a gravitational pull to the woman in her arms that Catra was too weak or unwilling to break from. How fitting, she ruminated. Adora had always been her sun. All of Catra’s life had been spent in orbit around Adora; every choice, every decision, had been for her. Even in her darkest moments, anticipation of how the blonde would react or respond had been the driving force behind it all. The tsunami that would rage in her ocean-blue eyes, the thunderous anger that would storm across her beautiful face and inspire a corresponding boom in Catra’s chest; any and all was worth it to Catra just for a ray of Adora’s attention. Who am I, Catra thought, now stroking Adora’s face, without you?

A sun can exist alone in a universe. It would be lonely and maybe a little sad, but it needed nothing to maintain it. It had the twinkling of distant stars to entertain it, the swirls of far off galaxies to inspire it. But a planet, even a planet so dark and small and angry it hated the sun and its wretched necessity? No life could flourish without the sun; it would wither and die. And so, too, would Catra wither and die. She had made her decision. Maybe this would atone for her earlier transgressions, Catra speculated. Maybe by this act of penitence and devotion she would be forgiven for all the suffering and death she inflicted in the name of the Horde. Maybe, if she spent whatever time she had left in loving Adora, she would come to the end measuring equal to the hate she gave in life, and be judged in accordance. Through suffering one may be purified, is that not what Horde Prime had told her? 

A small voice began whispering deep within her core, somewhere near her heart, and it spoke with a cadence that rang like Adora’s voice. You still matter. You can do more. You can still keep fighting.

Catra shook her head violently. “No, Adora! No, I-I promised. I’m staying here!”

Her friends are on the surface fighting. Your friends. Don’t abandon them just because Adora wasn’t strong enough. 

“Well, I’m not strong enough either! I’m not strong enough to leave you!” 

It’s what Adora would have wanted…

Catra threw her head back, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks. She cursed the voice. Stupid Adora. Foolish Adora. Selfless Adora. She would have wanted Catra to continue fighting on, championing Etheria and all their friends against the Horde’s tyranny. She tipped her head forward to gaze at the broken woman in her arms. “I hate you Adora,” she cursed. “But I’ll be damned if I’m leaving you behind.” And with a strength Catra didn’t even know she possessed, she hefted Adora into her arms and proceeded, half carrying and half dragging the fallen warrior, through the dark hallways out of the belly of the Crystal Castle.

“Remember…the last time…we were here together, Adora?” Catra huffed with exertion, glancing down briefly to a face that would never hold expression again. “We kept…running into those…ridiculous…memories? I wonder…” but she didn’t have to wonder for long. Lights flickered by the corners of her eyes, and her ears caught words just too soft to comprehend. It wasn’t until Catra rounded the next corner that the memory took shape.

“C’mon Catra. You’re not done. Not yet. We’re going home.” 

They were on the deck of Mara’s ship. She-Ra was holding Catra, her magic healing the feline and for a moment blinding the real Catra, who ducked her face into Adora’s chest to block the light. 

Catra heard herself cough. “H-hey Adora.” She lifted her head to watch the rest of the scene. She-Ra disappeared, and was now Adora, and Adora was pressing Catra to her in a fierce embrace, tears leaking from her blue eyes.

Catra let out a soft laugh as the memory dissipated. “I’m such an idiot,” she told the body in her arms. “I should have kissed you then. I was just so damn tired…and I thought…I thought we had more time.” Her eyes began to burn, but Catra refused to let any more tears fall. Adora had given her a task, and no foolish emotions or ridiculous memories would stop her. She marched, head down resolutely through the halls, not sparing a glance to Shadow Weaver’s broken mask or the scorch marks that remained of the monster the sorceress had obliterated. 

Catra almost didn’t notice when the next memory began. She wouldn’t have, had it not been for the acrid smell of fire that filled her nostrils. She glanced up. There was Adora, and there was Catra, standing at opposing ends at the Battle of Thaymore. “Now, come on,” she heard herself say. “Can we go home already?”

Adora jerked away, casting her eyes down. “I’m not going home, Catra. I can’t. Not after everything I’ve seen.” Something flickered across her face. Was it hope, Catra wondered. Adora reached out and took Catra’s hand. “Come with me! You don’t have to go back there. We can fix this!” 

Catra stepped forward, still hefting Adora’s body, as her memory’s self tore her hand away. “I’m so sorry,” she said to past Adora. She lifted a hand to cup her face, and sighed when she met not flesh but empty air, a projection of pixels that slowly began to disintegrate before her. “I should have gone with you. We could have had so much more time.” The memory crumbled to her feet and disappeared. Readjusting her grip, her arms burning from the Adora’s weight, Catra continued. 

“Would this have even happened?” she asked. “If I had joined you…Entrapta…Entrapta would never have…figured out the portal. Prime wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have gotten Hordak’s signal…wouldn’t have tried to find us…You would be…you would still be…” but she couldn’t finish that sentence. She pressed her lips together. There can’t be much more of this damn place left. 

Each step, now, was getting harder and harder to take. It would be so very much easier to just lay down her burden and stay here forever, Catra thought, if only that voice would quit. Keep going, it stirred within her. Just a little more…just a little longer. It continued like that for a while, Catra doubting every stride, the too-much-like-Adora voice encouraging her next, a nightmarish struggle that finally broke when she rounded what felt like the hundredth turn and saw light spilling in from the entrance. It was still several paces away and up a steep incline, but it was at least within sight. 

But as Catra started down the long corridor, another memory began to take shape before her eyes. The Crystal Castle must be malfunctioning now that the Heart was no longer operational, because Catra could still see the hallway, rather then being fully immersed in whatever fresh torture would be conjured now. Multiple figures began blinking in and out of existence on either side of her, all up and down the room, at first unclear, only vague shapes acting out imprecise motions before flickering out and beginning the cycle again. As Catra struggled towards the entrance, the figures became more substantial, and she realized that no, they weren’t different, they were the same, the same two people, speaking familiar words. Words she remembered all these years later, words that she’d scream at herself in the coldest nights in the Fright Zone as she tore at whatever her claws could take purchase in, be it her pillows, blankets, hair, or skin. 

Catra recognized the two figures as well, a tiny blonde with wide blue eyes and an even wider gap in her teeth, and a scrawny Magicat, all matted fur and bloodshot, mismatched eyes, the pair huddled together under a tattered blanket. Catra picked up her pace, trying to drown out what they were saying with gasping sobs that she was only half aware she was making, but it was no good. 

“Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.”

“You promise?”

“I promise”

“…nothing bad…”

“…you…”

“promise…promise…I promise…I PROMISE…I PROMISE”

It’s too much, it’s all too much. Catra is so close to the entrance now, but she can’t see for all the tears in her eyes, and she raised a hand to cover an ear and block out the words that hadn’t meant anything then and certainly didn’t mean anything now. Her grip on Adora loosened, Adora’s legs fall and trip Catra, and suddenly Catra is on the ground, and in that moment she understood. The castle wasn’t glitching because the Heart had failed. It wanted Adora, and it wanted Catra. In a final act of selfishness and greed, it was working itself into disrepair and failure to keep them, together, forever in the dark. What a fitting prize it could claim: the hero who brought about the Heart’s destruction, and the woman who failed at everything. Catra grasped at Adora and wept into her shoulder. She truly had failed at everything. She couldn’t keep Adora from She-Ra and the Rebellion, she couldn’t keep Adora from returning for her on Horde Prime’s ship, and she couldn’t keep her from death. Prime’s words echoed in her ear. Some creatures are destined only for destruction. That’s all Catra ever did. Destroy. Kneeling over Adora’s body, she buried her head into the crook of the blonde’s neck, the sounds of her howls mixing with the endless “I promise” into a cacophonous symphony of agony. 

“Adora…Adora I’m s-so sorry,” Catra screamed. “I’m not enough, I was never e-enough.” She laced her fingers into her short wisps and yanked, rocking back and forth. She’s close enough to the entrance that a distant wail met her ears, and, to her surprise, the voice picked up traction again. Please. Please, your friends. You’re so close. Catra squeezed her eyes shut and pressed both hands to her ears. 

“No! I won’t! I can’t leave you again!” 

But the voice won’t be satisfied. Catra felt a physical force in the pit of her stomach beckoning her to the entrance and the fight outside. She can hear clear sounds of battle now, the clashing of weapon against armor, and maybe the far off twinkle of Glimmer’s teleportation magic. Looking down at Adora, she straightened her collar and smoothed the golden tendrils away from her forehead. The blonde actually looks peaceful, Catra thought. The furrow between her eyebrows is gone, and her shoulders aren’t tight with worry. She almost could be sleeping…Catra bent down and pressed her lips to Adora’s forehead. It’s damp from Catra’s tears, and still warm from being carried so close to Catra. 

“I’ll be back, Adora,” she whispered. “Okay, b-baby?” Her voice hitched at the pet name she never got to call her. “I’m coming back for you, and this time, I-I’m never leaving you again. Okay? I promise. I promise.” It’s the last promise I will ever make, Catra thought. It’s the only one that will ever matter. I can’t break it. I won’t. With a final glance at Adora’s face, Catra stood and made her way out of the Crystal Castle and onto what remained of the final battle of the Rebellion.

Looking back, Catra had prided herself, in the Horde and definitely now, on her flippant attitude towards any and all authority figures. Even when she became Hordak’s second in command, she pointedly refused to read up on the latest tactics and updated policies, preferring to think on her feet and trust her own instincts. So Scorpia, sweet faithful Scorpia, saw it as her personal mission to make sure Catra got that education somehow. Usually it was in the form of some obnoxious, peppy chatter, sprinkled in between cadet gossip and Entrapta’s latest experiment. Other times, the scorpion would come up to the Magicat, claws clicking nervously together and clearly in desperate need of getting something off her chest, even to a half-listening audience. 

“His name, was like, Pyrros? Pyrrhios? Anyway, his battalion won but he was, like, the only one to survive!” Scorpia had raised her arms above her head for emphasis. “Crazy, right? Everyone in your squadron dies, and you get a-a-a battle move named after you!”

This was some time ago, maybe even a year? Catra had been running supply numbers on her handheld tablet, checking to see what routes would be the least likely to be picked up by Resistance fighters. She had shrugged. “So? We always knew the Horde doesn’t think much of us. Our lives are cheap. It doesn’t matter.” A shadow had fallen over her, and she looked up to see Scorpia standing close to her, worry coloring her features. 

“You matter to me, wildcat.”

It was sweet, faithful Scorpia that Catra first saw upon exiting the Crystal Castle. She was splayed out, limbs asunder, head tilted back and eyes open and empty, like she spent her last moments waiting for Catra to return. You matter to me, wildcat. She screamed briefly, and took several steps backward in her shock, tripping over something soft. Catra landed with a grunt, and looked up to see what made her fall. It was that flower princess, what was her name? She yelled at Catra about how she treated Scorpia…Perfuma. Perfuma was on her stomach, one arm braced under her, the other outstretched, reaching for the scorpion woman. Three or four vines extended from her hand, reaching desperately but still several feet away from their target, a large red claw. Already they were beginning to brown and wither; Catra watched as a single leaf broke off and fluttered to the ground, transforming into dust upon impact before she tore herself away.

It was no better anywhere else. The entire field was littered with bodies, Horde clones and Resistance fighters locked together in final embraces, indistinguishable to Catra’s tired eyes. Here was the grumpy water princess and her ridiculous pirate boyfriend. She was still gripping the trident that was lodged in his stomach. One of his hands had fallen from the dagger protruding from her ribs; the other was tangled in her braid. Netossa and Spinnerella weren’t too far from them, surrounded by clone bodies. The white haired woman had her head in her wife’s lap, body curled around an electric blast to her stomach. Spinnerella had fallen backwards, arms outstretched in a last magical act; it was clear to Catra that she was responsible for the unmoving circle of Horde soldiers. Both women seemed drained of color in death, Spinnerella’s hair less purple, Netossa’s armor less bright. Catra’s eyes burned, but she couldn’t summon any more tears. Desperate, she looked around for some sign of life. 

Catra heard a grunt to her left, and spun. It was the Mystacor sorceress, Castaspella. She was separating the bodies, casting the clones to a distant pile with magic, and carrying the Resistance fighters to a separate location, lining them up in neat rows. She was struggling with the ice princess at the moment, and without realizing it, Catra found herself standing in front of Casta, arms outstretched to receive Frosta’s body. The magician didn’t even pause. She placed the girl in Catra’s hold, gently folding the princess’s arms in a natural position with shaking hands, and turned around to continue her task. Catra watched her for a moment before trudging to the designated location, carefully laying Frosta down next to a motionless Kyle. 

There was a cluster of three forms not too far away, two laying and one kneeling. Catra could tell the upright one was Glimmer even from where she stood, but it wasn’t until she was closer that she saw the young queen’s chest rising and falling and realized she was alive. The same couldn’t be said of her companions. Her father lay in front of her on his back, eyes closed and body covered with the aftereffects of magical attacks. Bow was beside Glimmer, facedown, a glowing green knife in his back, his hands outstretched in a final act of sacrificial protection. 

Catra moved toward the shorter woman, and almost slipped in some dark, inky goo spread out around her. Glimmer blinked, but didn’t look up at the sound. She pointed at the smear, and gestured to the two men. “He killed them.” Her voice rang emotionless, almost too loud in this place. “Prime. He killed them, so I killed him.” She looked up at Catra, and her eyes were dry and dead. Something fractured across her face, and fear gripped Catra’s heart for the first time since she and Adora had walked into the Crystal Castle. She ran away as fast as she could. She didn’t want to hear what Glimmer said next, but it was too late. 

“Why didn’t he kill me too?” 

Catra felt something break inside her too, and she ran faster. Bodies blurred around her and she couldn’t see where she was going, but it didn’t matter. She only had one place left. She could run for hours, days, only going in one direction, and she would still end up where she was always destined to be. So it didn’t surprise her when her footfalls left soft grass and began hammering against hard crystal, the ground slopping down and the light dimming around her. She slowed and stopped, falling hard on her knees beside her goal. 

Adora’s body hadn’t moved from where Catra laid her, even though some miniscule part of Catra hoped for some change, some sign that life still dwelled within the woman she loved. There wasn’t, and so with a deep sigh Catra quietly and unflinchingly killed that part of herself. There was no hope left anymore; all of it died with Adora. With dry eyes, Catra pulled the blonde closer to her and began cradling her once more, rocking gently back and forth. 

“Hey Adora,” she murmured, taking up her ministrations to Adora’s hair again. “See? I promised I would come back. I’ll never leave you again.” She began to lightly stroke her cheek with the backs of her fingers, soft as a whisper. She smiled. “I never got to do this to you, before. What would you have done, baby? Probably smacked my hand away.” She chuckled. “Gods forbid the mighty Adora show any signs of weakness…I still should have done it. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of what you thought.” 

Catra’s eyes flickered down to Adora’s lips. They were slightly parted and still pink, less so then in life, but just as inviting. Her hand on Adora’s cheek paused. How Catra had longed to feel those lips, even before she understood that things such as love and desire had a name. How many nights had Catra awoken, hot and angry and wanting, the taste of Adora still on her tongue? Her own tongue now darted between her own lips, moistening them. “I wish I hadn’t been scared,” the words no louder then her own breath. She bent down, her eyelashes brushing against Adora, agonizingly close. “I wish I had done this when you were still alive.” Catra pressed her lips to Adora’s.

But Catra had been gone for too long, had been away from Adora’s body for longer then she thought. Without the closeness of her own living, beating, warm heart, Adora was now cold. And that was all Catra could taste. Cold. None of Adora’s happiness or sweetness remained. She was so cold. Even as Catra jerked away and began backing up, screaming, so quickly she slammed up against the wall, she could feel the cold invading her now. It swept into her, having gained entrance through the kiss and rapidly taking her over until that was all Catra could feel, would ever feel. Catra felt everything in her surrender to the overwhelming sensation, claiming body, mind, and soul. Even the scream bursting forth from Catra’s lungs felt icy; she could see her breath. So she closed her eyes and kept screaming, until the cry in her ears and the ice in her veins consumed her and all was dark around her.

~***~

“Catra? Catra! Catra, wake up!” Soft hands were on her shoulders, shaking her, and with a gasp that filled her lungs with the sweetest air Catra ever tasted, she awoke. 

The first thing she saw were gray-blue eyes, filled with concern. Catra blinked, and Adora’s face swam into focus. She reached out a shaking hand and placed it on Adora’s cheek. Warm, she so warm. She paused, and then with a broken cry flung herself upon Adora, heaving sobs into her shoulder. She instantly felt Adora’s hands on her, one threading fingers into her hair, the other gently stroking her back.

“Oh, baby, another one? It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Y-y-you were d-d-d-DEAD,” Catra choked out, burrowing closer to the stronger woman. She felt Adora’s arms flex around her, holding her in place. Catra’s arms snaked around Adora’s waist in turn, crying even harder. “You-you died, a-a-and I was a-a-ALONE, and everyone…everyone else was d-d-dead! Y-you promised you-you’d take me h-h-home, and you l-l-left me!” Any further speech was useless at this point, so Catra gave up and kept crying. 

“Shhh, Catra…It was just a nightmare. I’m here baby, I’m here…I’m never leaving you again.” 

Very, very slowly, Catra’s tears started to slow, her hiccupping breaths calming. She felt Adora in her arms, her warmth radiating through each point their bodies touched. Her own body rose up and down from Adora’s breathing. With these vibrant reminders, the dream gave up its terrifying grip on Catra’s soul and she began to feel at ease again. She sniffed, pulling back to look properly into Adora’s eyes. “Promise?” she whispered.

Adora smiled. “I promise.” She glanced down at Catra’s lips, and the smile turned roguish, causing Catra’s stomach to turn pleasantly. “And, I promise to remind you just how alive both of us are.” With that, she pulled Catra to her, sealing her lips with an unspoken vow that guaranteed the next several hours to be filled with heated touches, soft lips upon soft skin, and breathy sighs whispered like prayers into a quiet and peaceful night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> ~and it was all a dream!~
> 
> See, I told you it would all be okay! 
> 
> Um, yeah, so that's my first fanfic since college when my bestie and I were writing self-insert Merlin and Supernatural drabble. Let me know what you think!


End file.
